


grown tired of holding this pose

by demiboyharrie



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Art Student Harry Styles, Bottom Harry, Education Student Louis Tomlinson, Gratuitous Art History References, M/M, Smut, Top Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-06 01:45:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12806901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demiboyharrie/pseuds/demiboyharrie
Summary: Harry arrives at his figure drawing class only to see the most beautiful man he has ever laid eyes on. The best part? The man is the nude model for the day.Harry sighed. How was he supposed to look away from the stunning beauty at the front of the class in order to put pencil to paper? It seemed like the cruelest of injustices that Harry couldn’t admire the formative elements that made up the cohesive composition that was this man. He was an elegant creature pulled straight from De Kooning’s Pink Angels. He wanted to pick the boy up and recreate Mapplethorpe’s Two Men Dancing. Both of their naked bodies pressed together, crowns erect on their heads, as they waltzed to imagined music.





	grown tired of holding this pose

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eastcoastghost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eastcoastghost/gifts).



> hey everybody, here is a top!louis fic for u to enjoy. shout out to eastcoastghost for these awesome prompts ! i looooove art history and so this was perfect for me ! i hope u can see how much i loved it !  
> shout out to my two betas [chelsea](http://yoursongonmyheart.tumblr.com/) and [sam](https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/britpickerhl) for making this much less of a shit show,, i truly appreciate it.

When Harry had arrived at his campus’ art building his first semester, he’d been sure he could never fit in. His eyes had been set on law school for so long, it was almost comical to even step into the building. However, his degree plan begged to differ. He had to take his required fine arts credit, so art appreciation it had been.

What he hadn’t realized, was that one art class would not be enough. Despite his lack of artistic skill, he’d fallen in love with the subject. From that moment on he was filling his schedule with art history courses, and falling into photography like he was born to hold a camera in his massive hands. Traditional media was more of a learning curve, but Harry appreciated the challenge.

He was in his last year now, and as he made his way into the plaster-scented building, he felt a sense of calm. The last few years had been difficult, especially changing his major and embracing his creative side. However, this building had held him up through every long night, and dried his studio class-induced tears.

As he stepped into his advanced figure drawing class, he realized something was different. The typical stools were all set out with easels, but there was an elevated platform at the front of the room with a couch on it. Harry was a bit confused, and he was partially regretting not reading the syllabus online before class today. He hadn’t realized this would be a drawing from life class.

Harry was chronically early, so he decided to take his time setting up his drawing table and pencil set. He’d never really enjoyed the traditional mediums of art, they all took too much time, and there were too many chances for Harry to fuck up. However, he’d grown to appreciate the easy glide of a 2B pencil in his hands. It wasn’t as instantly gratifying as photography, but it always left him with the feeling of deep satisfaction at having pulled something from the ether.

By the time class was supposed to begin, the easels were all taken. The people around him were friends he’d made in one of his modern art history courses, and they made small talk until the professor arrived.

However, he wasn’t alone. Behind him was a slight man in a dressing robe. His skin was luminous and glowy like it had been cast in bronze. His features were dainty and reminded Harry of the childlike face of Donatello’s _David_ sculpture. Though as he considered the rest of the man’s body, he was reminded more of the famous Michelangelo version of the same man. The robe covering him from view was a soft peach color, that complimented the rosey tone of his flushed cheeks.

Harry wasn’t sure what it felt like to be gobsmacked, but he was almost certain that he was experiencing it now for the first time. He imagined this is what Homer felt when Calliope smacked him in the head with inspiration for the Iliad.

Never in his life had he been more inspired to pick up his camera then when he made eye contact with the man. His eyes were cool steel blue and Harry could just imagine capturing the depth of them with his expensive macro lens.

By the time he tuned into his professor’s introduction, he’d missed all of the instructions. However, before he could ask his friends what the assignment was, the man in the robe had slowly untied the belt and pushed it off his shoulders.

Harry felt like he had swallowed his tongue and would never speak again. The audible gulp he made caused the woman beside him to snicker.

“Honestly, Harry, you act like you’ve never seen a naked man before.” She elbowed him, knowing that it was a lie as she said it. “Did you not know that this was a drawing from life course?”

He couldn’t even bother to move his eyes to her as he responded. “I had no idea I was going to be accosted by the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

Before she could respond, the professor started speaking again.

“Make sure you finish your graphite sketch before the end of the class, otherwise you won’t be able to complete your final drawing before our next meeting.”

Harry sighed. How was he supposed to look away from the stunning beauty at the front of the class in order to put pencil to paper? It seemed like the cruelest of injustices that Harry couldn’t admire the formative elements that made up the cohesive composition that was this man. He was an elegant creature pulled straight from De Kooning’s _Pink Angels_. He wanted to pick the boy up and recreate Mapplethorpe’s _Two Men Dancing_. Both of their naked bodies pressed together, crowns erect on their heads, as they waltzed to imagined music.

Picking up his pencil, he finally started sketching the man in his full glory. He sketched with a hard pencil, taking time to shape the body, and create musculature under the skin. It was times like these that Harry felt like he was painting the Sistine Chapel, carefully turning each figure into a prize winning body builder. This was different though, this boy’s musculature was less pronounced, the definition more noticeable in his upper arms than his lower body.

It was as Harry was sculpting the abdomen and thighs of the man, that he noticed how soft and pillowy they were. It seemed almost criminal for someone to have such warm and soft looking skin. Not only that, but all of his flesh was coated in a light dusting of golden hair. Even the light scruff on his face was catching the light and shimmering.

Absolutely criminal.

By the time Harry had finished the sketch of the model’s body, he noticed the people around him packing their things. Harry glanced back at the front of the room to see the man putting his robe back on.

Looking down at his sketch, he knew he was fucked. He hadn’t even had time to sketch the face, or to consider shading. There was no way in hell he’d be able to create a fully realized rendering of this man with a half complete sketch. This was a senior level course, and his professor was going to ream him if his first assignment was this lackluster.

The room had cleared quickly, and Harry tried to pack his things quickly, so that he wasn’t stopped by the professor. That would be more embarrassing than he could bear. _Sorry Professor Hart I couldn’t finish my sketch because the model is the most beautiful and distracting being I have ever set eyes on. Do you happen to have his number perchance?_ Talk about pathetic.

Harry finished packing, and made his way to the restroom. He could hear the sound of a zipper and some faint grunting, which he was not sure how to react to. He decides to piss in the urinal and not worry about the disconcerting noises in the first stall.

As he washed his hands, Harry saw the model from earlier stepping from the stall. So what did Harry do? Make a fool of himself, of course.

“Hey, excuse me?” He asked, his wet hands accidentally flinging water on the other man as he gestures. “Oh shit! Sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry.”

The other man squinted at him, his face a bit perplexed, and maybe just a smidge upset.

“I, um, sorry. I’m not usually this spastic,” he paused. “Actually that’s not true.”

“Do you have a reason for covering me in, what I hope is, water?”

Harry blushed, surreptitiously wiping his still damp hands on his dark wash jeans.

“Actually, yes I did. I was in the figure class and I wasn’t able to finish my sketch? I was a bit distracted actually,” his cheeks were an unnaturally bright pink and he felt very self-conscious. “I was wondering if you weren’t busy around ten tonight you could meet back in the room? I have studios all day, and that’s the earliest I’m free. I wasn’t able to get your face, and I’d hate to turn in a sketch of you that didn’t showcase your beauty.”

It’s a moment before he realized what he had said, his hands coming up to cover his mouth. Harry Styles, excellent photographer, horrible conversationalist.

“Is this a ploy to see me naked again or something?” The man replied, his hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his very adorable nose.

“Oh, god no! I can pull out the sketch if you want? I just don’t want to get a bad grade on my first assignment.”

Louis quirked an eyebrow, eyes slowly travelling from Harry’s toes up this his face.

“What’s your name? Can’t refer to you as ‘art student who repeatedly puts his foot in his mouth’.”

Harry was mortified. Not only did this angel know how smitten Harry is, but he also knew how utterly embarrassing he could be.

“Harry Styles, art student with foot in mouth syndrome, at your service.” He placed his no longer wet hand out for the model to shake.

“Louis Tomlinson, early education student who gets naked for money, at your service.” The man, Louis, replied eyes crinkling as he smiles.

Harry was sure this was meant to be a challenge of some sort. Perhaps Louis was waiting for Harry’s reaction, but honestly he has never been more thankful in his life for nude models than he was at this moment. How Louis made his money was none of Harry’s business.

They shook hands and Harry felt slightly better about the exchange.

“So will you show up tonight so I can finish my preliminary sketches? I can like pay you, if that would help my cause?”

Louis gave him a considering look, laughing at the end of Harry’s ramble.

“Nah, no money needed. We poor majors gotta stick together, yeah?” Louis replies, mirth coating his tongue. “I’ll show up, can’t have you flunking out of art school. That’s almost as embarrassing as a beauty school drop out.”

Harry laughed, making a note that perhaps Louis was a Grease fan.

“Thanks for your help, I really appreciate it, Louis.” He quickly walked toward the door holding it open for Louis as he went. “But, maybe if I do drop out I can get Frankie Avalon to serenade me.”

Then it was Louis’ turn to laugh, slapping Harry on the back as he left the bathroom and headed out of the building.

After a moment of feeling too starstruck to move, Harry made his way to the break room in the art building. He suddenly had a load of inspiration for his senior showcase, and he had to get down the ideas fast. And, if all of the ideas involved rose golds and warm bronze shades, then that was just a coincidence.

―

By the time Harry had finished all of his studio courses, and got his reading done for art history, he was drained. He felt like he was only tethered to the current plane of existence by a tiny string. And that string was the fact that he was going to see Louis naked in a few hours.

He had camped out in the room that his figure drawing class was held in. It was empty, seeing as the night classes were held in the ceramics hall. The couch at the room was calling his name, so instead of setting up his easel and waiting for Louis, he decided to take a nap.

Being an art student was exhausting, of course he had expected something similar when he’d been thinking of going into law. Why he set himself up for sleepless nights, he’d never know.

He pulled one of the cushions over to use as a pillow, and promptly fell asleep. He’d gotten a reputation with the art kids that he could fall asleep anywhere, and they weren’t wrong. One time he’d fallen asleep in his survey lecture and his professor had slammed a textbook by his head for snoring.

Harry came to slightly groggy, with someone’s hand carefully shaking him.

“Hey, man, gonna be hard to sketch me if you’re snoozing. ‘Specially since you’re kinda in my spot.”

He rolled over a bit, and felt a firm mass against his face. Humming happily he snuggled into it, wrapping his long arms around it.

There was a squeak from whatever he’d wrapped around. He could feel the thing squirming to get away, but Harry had just squeezed his arms tighter, holding on for dear life.

“This really isn’t what I had in mind when I agreed to come back,” the person said, yanking on Harry’s hair to get him to stop.

It took Harry a moment to understand what the person whose thigh he was burrowing into was saying, but when he did, he quickly scrambled away. The jean covered thigh that he was staring at looked too familiar to not be Louis. His eyes were squinted blearily up at Louis, glasses askew from the way he’d been napping.

“Oh, I am _so_ , so sorry. God, can I go five seconds without making a fool of myself?” He asked rhetorically, before getting up off the couch. “I’m gonna go set up my easel and you can get comfortable on the couch here. It shouldn’t take me _too_ long.”

Louis laughed, clapping him on the shoulder good naturedly.

“It’s all right, man. No harm done. Can’t say I’ve ever met someone quite so cuddly. S’Nice.”

Harry blushed, making his way to the easel he’d sat at earlier that morning. He could hear the sounds of Louis disrobing, but he couldn’t bring himself to watch.

He was already going to spend the better part of the night making eye contact with his cock. There was no reason to get greedy.

Carefully lining up his pencils, Harry finally looked up at the couch. It felt like he was seeing Louis for the first time all over again. His heart felt like it was being squeezed by strong hands, and his head felt like it was full of helium. Looking at Louis’ naked form was like listening to Pink Floyd while high; it was like tasting honey straight from the comb. It was like bathing in a warm perfumed bath, and sipping cheap Moscato; like winning the favor of an ancient God. He was intoxicating.

Harry still hadn’t grabbed a pencil, happy to just bask in the aura of the other man. He was the embodiment of baby blue, like a warm sunny sky, and it was everything Harry had ever wanted.

“You going to start sketching, pal? I mean I know I’ve got a nice cock, but your grade is probably a bit more important than checking me out.”

Before he could stop himself, Harry felt his mouth opening in reply.

“I’d flunk out of college if it meant getting to see your cock all the time.” His eyes immediately grew in size as he realized what he’d said. He wasn’t able to say anything, because Louis had immediately sat up on the couch, elbows digging into his pillowy thighs as he rested his head on his clenched fists.

“High praise from someone who has probably seen quite a few amazing historical penises.”

Harry shrugged, glad that Louis wasn’t running from the room shouting about how creepy he was.

“Honestly, Louis, if you’ve seen one marble dick, you’ve really seen them all,” he laughed a bit before continuing. “Although, I’ve got to admit, Mapplethorpe photographed some impeccable cocks in his day.”

Louis shrugged his shoulders.

“You’ll have to show me some time. I’ve never heard of him, but any man who loves a good cock is fine by me.”

Harry laughed, clapping his hands as he did.

“It’s a date,” he replied before gesturing to Louis with his hand. “Now I think you’re in the wrong position for sketching, my dear.”

After a nod, Louis got back into his lounging position, and Harry grabbed a soft pencil to shade his body.

The light fixtures in the room were only on over Harry, and it left Louis in soft light. His features were sharp, nose and cheeks catching the light in the room. The hollows of his cheeks and his eyes were dark and mysterious looking, and Harry took great care to sketch his face perfectly.

It wasn’t easy by any means, but by the time Harry had finally put the finishing touches on the sketch, he knew it would be an amazing portrait of Louis. He also knew that when he got his graded assignment back, he’d get it framed for his bedroom wall. Was it a bit creepy? Perhaps. Harry didn’t care though, Louis’ body was a work of art, and he deserved to be have it on display at all times.

He left his supplies out, motioning for Louis to come and inspect the piece. Louis got up, not bothering to cover himself up, cock bobbing with each step he took. It made Harry feel a bit hot under the collar, and his own cock twitch with interest.

Louis slung his arms around Harry’s neck, resting his head on top of Harry’s floppy, unstyled curls. Harry held his breath, not wanting to disturb Louis, and make him move. The position was oddly intimate, and Harry could feel his pulse throbbing where they were connected. He’d always been a highly tactile person, and it was taking all of his focus to avoid melting into Louis’ chest and humming.

He could feel the vibrations of Louis’ words against his back, and it was more soothing than a warm bubble bath. Harry couldn’t focus on any of the words Louis was forming in the charged air in the room.

“Are you even listening to me, Harold?”

Those words trickled into Harry’s conscious and he frowned a bit.

“Sorry, you’re a bit distracting. Also my name’s not Harold.” He huffed a bit, trying to act like he hadn’t been imagining waking up with Louis pressed against him. It was a bit hard to do though, especially with the soft length of his cock pressing against his lower back.

He couldn’t be blamed for getting distracted.

“Come now, Harold. You act like a pretty, naked boy has never used you as an armrest.”

He hummed in response, finally sinking back into Louis’ form.

“Can’t say that I have, no? Or, at least I can’t say that they’ve been quite as enigmatic and magnetic as yourself.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Harry,” Louis whispered into Harry’s left ear.

Harry felt like he had been struck by lightning, his entire being charged with the feeling of Louis’ hot breath on his skin. The way the words sensuously curved into his being. It was like looking at _The Birth of Venus_ for the first time, and taking in how beautiful Botticelli had made her. It was like taking in Warhol’s Marilyns and realizing that the entire universe could be condensed and repeated until it no longer held any meaning. It was liberating, both beautiful and dangerous.

He wanted to capture this feeling in his hands, create it in a piece and force everyone to admire it just as he just did.

“Does everywhere involve kissing? If I compliment you, will you pay me in kisses?” Harry asked, wringing his hands together in his lap. He felt a bit stupid asking, but in the warm air of the classroom it felt almost sacrilegious to do anything else.

Louis laid his head down to rest on top of his arm, breath tickling the tiny hairs on Harry’s nape.

“I think that could be arranged.”

So Harry turned on his stool, capturing the sharp cheekbones of Louis’ face in his broad hands. He leaned in so that their lips were almost touching.

“If your eyes were a painting they’d be _Starry Night_ , and if I ever felt lonesome I could just look at that piece and think of you.” Harry whispered, his lips occasionally brushing Louis’ as he spoke.

Louis made a wounded sound, leaning forward until he could kiss Harry. It was hard and warm, and Harry couldn’t help but melt into Louis. His lips were rough, slightly chapped from a day of licking them, and Harry wanted them to trail all over him.

Before he could deepen the kiss and let Louis devour him from the inside out, Louis pulled away.

“I’ll need another compliment if you plan on frenching me in the middle of this very public art room. Actually, scratch that, I’ll need two. I am naked after all.” Louis said, smirking at the puppy dog eyes Harry was making.

“If you were a sculpture, you would be _David_ by Michelangelo. In fact that’s what I thought when I saw you.” Harry murmured, speaking quietly into the still room.

He could see the faint pinky hue of Louis’ flushed cheeks and he desperately wanted to brush them with the pads of his fingers if only to feel the heat of them.

“You are the most beautiful being I have ever laid eyes on, and you deserve to be on showcase at the Louvre.” Harry continued, leaning forward to press kisses along Louis’ collarbones, trying to trace the words pressed in them.

Louis ran his fingers through Harry’s hair, pulling until they were face to face again. The feeling of it against his scalp left Harry groaning, shivering from the sensation.

“I don’t think anyone has ever given me such lovely compliments. I feel like you’ve earned so much more than just frenching.” He paused, placing a soft peck above Harry’s right eyebrow. “You can have everything, lovely boy.”

Harry sighed, eyes fluttering shut at the thought of getting to have anything more than just the fleeting press of lips.

“You can’t make promises like that if you don’t intend to keep them, Lou.” Harry replied, feeling as though his corporeal form was melting into a puddle on the shitty carpet of the classroom.

He was scared to open his eyes, worried that he was still dreaming on the couch, never to actually experience the hot touch of skin on skin.

He felt Louis’ breath on his skin, and he wanted to fall into him like a pool of clear water. He wanted to tear himself limb from limb as a sacrifice to the god in front of him. He wanted to worship his body, pressing open mouthed kisses into every inch of his golden skin. He wanted so much; he wanted it all. But the real question was whether or not he could have it.

“You can have everything, Harry. I’ll give you anything.”

Harry’s eyes opened slowly, diving deep into Louis’ eyes, searching for the truth in his statement.

“Can I have you?” Harry asked tentatively, watching Louis’ eyelashes cast long shadows on his cheeks.

Louis leaned forward again, pressing his lips to Harry’s own. He opened his mouth, running his tongue along the seam of Harry’s lips, and Harry found them opening without a thought. The kiss became hard and heated quickly, morphing from the careful kisses they had first shared. It left Harry with tingling fingertips, and a racing heart.

It took Harry a moment to realize Louis has stopped kissing him, head fuzzy and brain mush from lack of oxygen.

“Can I keep you?” Louis replied, another question looping around them as they danced around the inevitable.

Harry stood up, beginning to collect his belongings, haphazardly stacking them with trembling hands.

“Of course, of course. Yours or mine?” The question caused Louis to smile, hands casually resting in front of his half-hard cock.

“Let me get dressed, and we can hoof it to mine. I have a single this year. Glad the extra cost is finally paying off.” He replied, walking calmly over to the couch again. He picked up the clothing littered around the floor and began to put them on.

Harry continued packing his art supplies up, taking care not to ding the lead of his soft pencils on anything. He carefully rolled the sketch before carefully placing it in his backpack. When he had finished putting the straps around his shoulders, he turned to face Louis, watching as he tucked the bottom of joggers into his long socks.

It was cute, endearing even. Louis finished slipping on his vans, before grabbing Harry by the hand.

“Come now, young Harold. I’ve got plans for you.”

―

Louis’ dorm was what Harry should have expected. It was cluttered, random odds and ends stacked precariously on all surfaces. He could see an overflowing hamper as he was dragged to Louis’ room, and there seemed to be an unending parade of socks along the floor. There were string lights strung around the room, that Louis turned on by flipping the switch with his foot. His bed was covered in at least five blankets, pillows piled in a mountain against the head of it.

“Home, sweet home. Now, would it be too forward to ask if I can finger you?” Louis asked, pushing Harry by the back until he was sitting down on the bed. He walked over to his bedside drawers, opening the first one and rummaging until he had located an almost full container of lube and a condom. He held the condom like a lit cigarette between two fingers. “Would this be too forward as well?”

Harry gulped, running his sweaty palms along his thighs. He’d considered that when Louis had said everything that he had meant _everything_. But, it felt much too good to be true. How could he possibly be allowed to keep this sweet creature all to himself? There had to be a catch.

“Only if you plan on being mine. I don’t do casual sex, Louis,” Harry mumbled, staring at his shaking hands.

He heard the sound of the lube being haphazardly dropped onto the dresser top, and assumed the condom had joined it.

He glanced up, nervous that Louis wasn’t interested in keeping him forever. The amount of vulnerability that Harry was showing by just admitting that, felt heavy on his chest. The feeling left grooves in his shoulders, painfully shredding him as he waited.

“As if I would ever let such a magnificent man like you go. I’ve known you barely a day, and I already feel like I would languish without your presence. The thought of getting to know the inner workings of your mind, brings me infinite joy. I can’t imagine not at least trying to give us a shot.” Louis paused, brushing a stray curl behind Harry’s ear. “If you’ll let me?”

Harry leaned into his body, nodding softly as he went.

“I’ll let you, Lou.” He replied, lying back on the bed as best he could seeing as it was a twin. “Now, if we’re being too forward, I think I’d like you to kiss me while you finger me so slowly I beg. And then you can fuck me so hard your resident advisor has to come investigate.” Harry said, smiling cheekily up at Louis, batting his lashes innocently.

Louis hopped up grabbing the forgotten lube and condom, trying to take off his clothes as quickly as possible.

“Someone’s got a dirty mouth.” He muttered, finally escaping from all of his layers and leaning down to kiss Harry.

He ran his fingers along the edge of Harry’s threadbare t-shirt, teasing the skin that peeked through around his hips. Harry sighed, melting into the mattress, letting Louis do whatever he wanted with him.

Before things could get too heated, Louis pulled away, running his hands up Harry’s chest under his shirt.

“Seems almost cruel to leave your clothing on Harry. This is the third time I’ve gotten naked for you, and I haven’t gotten to see your cock even once.” Louis pouted, and Harry couldn’t decipher whether it was genuine or just part of the game.

“Well, why don’t you take my clothes off then? Bit hard to finger me in jeans.” Harry teased, pulling his shirt over his head with ease, tossing it off into the cluttered room.

Louis began to unbutton Harry’s jeans, pulling them down his shapely thighs with great difficulty.

“Don’t tempt me, Styles. Jeans are no barrier to a good old fashioned fingering.”

A burst of laughter pealed from Harry’s lips, his stomach jumping from the force of his glee.

After a few more moments of struggle, Louis finally managed to pull off Harry’s jeans and briefs. He pet over Harry’s long cock, cooing at it as he did.

“Poor guy. You’ve been suffocating him all day. It’s a goddamn crying shame.” Louis muttered, running his fingers through the hair surrounding Harry’s cock.

Harry opened his mouth, words forming at the tip of his tongue, but when Louis wrapped his hand around the base of his cock, he did his best to stop himself from releasing what had to have been an embarrassing whine. Louis glanced up at him, when he’d made the muffled sound, watching the way Harry’s teeth clenched around his lower lip.

Louis took his free hand and pulled Harry’s lip from between his teeth, tutting.

“Now now, I can’t possibly let you censor yourself while this is happening. How am I supposed to know you’re enjoying yourself?” He asked, leaning down, bringing both of his hands to Harry’s hips.

He squeezed Harry’s love handles, causing the other man to squeal, and kick out a bit. Louis pressed down harder on Harry’s hips, forcing them to lay flush with the twin size mattress. Harry could feel the cotton jersey sheets against his back, the material oddly soft against his exposed skin.

Louis leaned down, nose running lines along Harry’s skin, leaving chill bumps in his wake. Harry wasn’t able to really look at Louis, his neck not strong enough to hold his head up that long. But, before he could feel too remorseful, Louis took the head of his cock into his mouth.

It felt like a religious experience. Louis’ mouth was so warm and wet, it felt like rapture, and Harry wanted to drown in him. He wanted to bury his cock in Louis’ mouth and live as the weirdest siamese twins on the record. Louis lifted off of him, and Harry thought that perhaps his brain was mush. Just maybe he died of pleasure.

The look on his face must have been embarrassingly transparent, because Louis chuckled a bit when he looked up at him. Harry’s face turned a scarlet shade, but Louis gave him a solid smile and Harry couldn’t help but melt.

It seemed almost too lucky that he’d found such a lovely boy, who also was interested in him. A pipe dream come to life.

Louis leaned back, making himself comfortable against his mountain of unnecessary decorative pillows. Harry leaned up onto his elbows, watching as Louis reached for the lube. He looked like a king on a throne, like Ingres’ rendition of Napoleon on the throne. It was lush and he practically oozed inborn power. Harry wanted to crawl on his belly, praising Louis for merely existing in his presence.

“Come here. Can’t kiss you from over there, pretty boy.” Louis softly said, patting his chest with his unlubed hand. Harry got up, shuffling awkwardly on his knees to Louis. He wasn’t sure quite how he was supposed to get into Louis’ lap without accidentally kneeing him in the balls or bashing their heads together. If Harry wasn’t so hopelessly uncoordinated it probably would have been easier.

“Um, please don’t make fun, but I’m not quite sure how to do this without accidental bodily injury.” Harry replied, head ducked in order to avoid seeing Louis’ reaction.

Louis’ fingers pushed against his chin, forcing him to look up.

“I’ll spread out my legs, and you can sit on my lap,” he gestured to where his thighs were on the bed. Harry wanted nothing more than to use them for pillows for the rest of his life. “Then you can wrap your legs around my back, and I’ll get started on the ‘fingering you until you're begging’ bit.”

Harry nodded, face scrunched in concentration. With a lot of effort and next to no finesse, he managed to fall into Louis’ lap with an oof.

“Hi,” he whispered, leaning down to place a kiss on Louis’ forehead.

Louis grinned up at him, blushing at the kiss. “Hi.”

He wrapped his arms around Harry’s slender waist, letting his clean hand pull Harry’s right ass cheek away from his left one. It caused Harry to shiver a bit, skin prickling as cold air reached his most intimate place. Louis rubbed his ass cheek briefly before rubbing one of his lube-covered finger against Harry’s hole.

The glide was easy, if not a bit chilly, and Harry made a soft sound at the repetitive petting. Before he could begin to grind or moan, Louis covered his mouth with his own, swallowing any of the sounds Harry was releasing.

The soft petting continued, the tip of Louis’ finger just barely teasing at his entrance. It was frustrating, and Harry found himself thrusting back to try and get Louis to do something, _anything_.

Louis pulled away from the kiss, giving Harry a somewhat stern look. Harry froze his movements, a whine escaping his throat. One of Louis’ eyebrows raised, giving him an air of incredulity and disdain.

“Do you have a problem, Harry?” He asked, his finger tip pressing a bit farther than it had previously. Before Harry could reply, Louis was suddenly knuckle-deep.

The air whooshed out of him, and he couldn’t stop the stream of consciousness that seemed to flow right from his brain to his mouth without filter.

“Lou, Lou, please.” Harry whined, words lengthening at the vowels. The finger wasn’t really moving, just enough to keep him hyper focused on it.

Louis smirked, leaning forward to press a kiss to Harry’s gaping mouth. He pulled away quickly, before beginning to move his finger slowly in and out, crooking it every now and then waiting for a reaction.

It wasn’t long before his lone finger found Harry’s prostate, and Harry let out a low, surprised moan. His head fell forward, forehead landing on the crook of Louis’ neck. Before Harry could get used to the head rush from his prostate, Louis was pressing a second finger into him.

He continued to make soft sounds, his voice getting slower, and gruffer. Louis pressed both of the pads of his fingers against Harry’s prostate, forcing him to mouth against Louis’ skin. His teeth gnawed on the golden skin of Louis’ neck, leaving the other man hissing.

“You’ve got some teeth don’t you, Hazza?” Louis asked, third finger slowly teasing around the stretched muscle of Harry’s hole.

Harry let out a hoarse whine, teeth still clamping onto Louis’ flesh. He tasted salty like sweat, and Harry couldn’t say he minded.

With a sharp thrust, Louis had three fingers in Harry. It was a bit of a tight squeeze, but he did his best to relax into it, finally unlatching from Louis’ neck. He’d left a gnarly imprint of his teeth, and he placed a closed-mouth kiss over it as an apology.

Louis’ free hand travelled up Harry’s flank, before grabbing a handful of his hair. The grip was soft, but Harry wanted more than that. He pressed back into Louis’ fist, before yanking his head down, pulling his own hair. He let out a high-pitched moan, ass clenching tightly around Louis’ spread fingers. Louis gasped, hand clenching harder around Harry’s short curls.

“You like that?” Louis asked, pulling sharply on Harry’s hair as he did.

Harry found himself nodding, pulling his hair again in the process. It was one of the things he did while masturbating that always brought him closer to the edge, and the feeling of someone else doing it was even better.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he chanted, back arching, as he pressed back into Louis’ fingers.

But, then, Louis pulled them out, leaving Harry to roll his hips back into nothing with a heavy whine.

“Get up you big crybaby, I can’t fuck you without a condom on.” Louis chastised, pulling Harry up by the hair again.

It left Harry panting, more turned on than he felt was fair. Louis hardly even looked affected, other than his straining cock. Harry on the other hand could feel a burning in his scalp that traveled straight to his own cock, and he could feel excess lube dripping down his balls. After a moment Louis let go of his hair, and Harry struggled to stay upright like he’d been told. It was quite the exercise in restraint.

He watched as Louis pinched the tip of the condom, rolling it on with practiced ease. It was hot, watching the way Louis’ arm muscles moved as he stroked lube up and down himself.

“Louis,” Harry whined, bouncing up and down on his thighs for emphasis.

“If you want to ride me all you had to do was ask, Harry.” Louis said, cheeky grin on his face.

Harry felt like he’d swallowed too much air, head fuzzy at the thought. Riding Louis would be a privilege, like seeing Da Vinci paint.

Louis grabbed hold of his own cock, holding it steady while Harry maneuvered into place. He grabbed hold of Louis’ shoulders, planning to use them for leverage.

It took a bit of finessing, but Harry finally began to sink down Louis’ length. He was so hard, it felt like Harry was using one of his favorite dildos, but Louis was warmer and his cock was curved just enough to press against Harry’s prostate as he sunk down.

He clenched his hands, fingernails leaving red crescents in Louis’ tan skin. Louis hissed as Harry began to move his hips in little swivels. Louis was so wide that it was all that Harry could bear to do. He thought if he actually lifted up, he might cum. It was quite the dilemma.

He felt Louis’ hands snaking up to grab his hips, fingers squeezing his love handles like they were meant to hold Harry forever. The thought that Louis might be willing to hold him forever kept him from floating away. The thought that Louis might even want to hold him forever, left him gasping.

With a bit of difficulty, Harry lifted himself up slowly, feeling the smooth drag of Louis’ cock inside of him. Once just the head was left in his hole, Harry slammed down, humming with his head thrown back at the sensation. He tried a few angles, whining every time he misses his prostate with Louis’ cock. Louis continued to groan, fingers clenching and releasing Harry to the rhythm of his pace.

Harry continued to lift up, thighs tingling from the workout, and it wasn’t long before he felt like he could no longer do it. His biceps were burning, and his hands hurt from how hard they’d been holding onto Louis. He was so close to cumming too, and that was the problem. If he could just get the perfect angle for the next few thrusts he would be golden. But, for the sake of his legs, he decided to slump forward, face hiding in Louis’ neck as he whined. His hips continued to shift, figure eight patterns keeping him on edge.

“Louis,” Harry moaned, planting wet kisses to the other man’s neck. “Please, please, I can’t do it anymore. Need to cum.” His words were more like whines, and his sentences were choppy, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. The lack of eloquence only cemented his point.

“Hush, baby, you’re okay.” Louis replied, fingers carding through Harry’s sweat dampened hair. “You want me to fuck up into you or get on top?” He asked, fingers twirling little curls as he spoke.

Harry leaned into Louis’ fingers, making pleased hums and gasps at the feeling.

“Don’t wanna move,” Harry replied, trying to get comfortable. He wrapped his arms around Louis’ neck, head laying on one of his arms, hips still swiveling subconsciously.

“What a pillow princess,” Louis rolled his eyes, shifting his legs, so that he could get leverage. “Should have known,” he shook his head a bit, before thrusting up without warning.

Harry let out a startled sound that morphed into a string of curses as Louis continued to change angles.

Finally, one thrust pressed the head of his cock right against Harry’s prostate, causing Harry to yelp into Louis’ ear. Louis pinched his side in retaliation before continuing his rough, quick pace.

“Are you close?” Louis asked, pinching Harry again to make sure he was listening. Harry groaned, shaking his head a bit from where it was still pressed to Louis’ arm.

“No,” he replied, pressing kisses to Louis’ skin. He was getting closer, but he’d never been able to cum untouched before. He doubted he could do it now.

“You’re killing me, Haz.” Louis muttered, before moving one of his hands to Harry’s cock.

It was decidedly wet, precum dribbling lines down the shaft. Louis wrapped his fingers around Harry’s girth, pressure just on the side of too tight. He stripped Harry’s cock, twisting his wrist every time he came up, trying his best to match the pace of his hips.

Harry let out a soft wet sound, body going limp as he came. He felt like he was in rapture, like the Baroque sculpture of Saint Theresa in Ecstasy; like Louis was the angel and just his touch left aftershocks in his soul. He could feel Louis still thrusting into him as clenched his ass rhythmically.

After a few more thrusts, he felt Louis slam him down by his hips, voice high and breathy as he moaned through his release.

Louis pulled out soon after, trying to pull off the condom and tie it despite Harry’s dead weight blocking his view. It took quite a bit of finagling, but finally he managed to toss it haphazardly at the trash can in the corner of the room. Harry continued to place tiny kisses on Louis, too drained to do much else.

“Are you always this useless after sex?” Louis teased, fingers running up and down Harry’s toned back.

Harry nodded, trying to squirm off of Louis’ chest.

“Yeah, just a bit.” He murmured. Harry managed to roll off of Louis, grabbing one of the many blankets haphazardly covering the bed and snuggling under it.

Making grabby hands from under the covers, Harry pouted at Louis until he joined him under the throw blanket.

“You be the big spoon,” Harry said, a yawn interrupting him halfway through.

Louis just chuckled before wrapping one arm and one leg over Harry’s side. He grabbed a second blanket throwing it over them haphazardly with one arm, pressing his nose against Harry’s apple-scented curls. It was calm and quiet, the only sound coming from other nearby dorms. Harry sighed, using a corner of the blanket to cover his eyes from the still burning Christmas lights. He was almost tempted to beg Louis to get up and turn them off, but it wasn’t worth losing Louis’ cuddles for that long.

“Good night, Art Student Harry.” Louis said, placing a soft kiss to the skin behind his closest ear.

“Good night, Early Education Student Louis,” Harry replied, voice honey slow, drifting off toward the end the closer he got to falling asleep. “Looking forward to being yours forever.”

**Author's Note:**

> hope u guys enjoyed this as much as i did! if u did feel free to leave me a kudos and a comment. i'll add my tumblr after reveals if u wanna chat.


End file.
